Bounty vs Limits

It's a fallacy to believe that to be creative, there should be little to no restrictions. To believe that the creative flow should be free to run where it will produces creative chaos and anarchy--or, worse, no creation at all.

That's not to say there isn't a place for No Restrictions in the creative process. But to produce a strong creative piece, boundaries must be set.

When water flows freely, there is no form to it, but give it a boundary or form to fill and it fills it thickly and with purpose.

Twyla Tharp said it best in her book "The Creative Habit" (which I strongly suggest any creative person to read). She said, "Limits are a secret blessing, and bounty can be a curse."

I have been struggling with my final project. I want a strong project but I have been floundering on how to approach it. It wasn't until yesterday when I learned what my limits were that my creativity, my thought processes, began to kick in and take off.

What limits do for me is to cut out all the extras, the jibberish, the nonessential elements and thus leaves me with the pieces that I can work with.

I am an Editor at heart--an archetypal Editor. I do best taking what exists and editing it so that it's beautiful or purposeful or dynamite. Coming up with ideas is NOT my forte (pronounced, FORT as a friend of mine corrects me when I pronounce it Fort-ay). But once the ideas are in place and the elements are there, I can piece them together to get a final outcome that is exceptional.

Now that I have my limits, now that I have a focus and a direction, now that I have the elements, I can move on the project and...

...now I'm excited.

Surreal Tooth Extraction

A cracked tooth landed me in a perverted Tim Burton metaphor. Overtones of Lemony Snicket and shades of Edward Gorey colored the shadows and gave face to what decreasingly called itself reality.

The 45 minute wait even though I was the only one on the waiting list and in the waiting room should have tipped me off. The uncanny appearance of the dental assistant immediately after I sent a text message to a friend saying I was going to reschedule should have tipped me off. The receptionist smiling with her mouth but not with her eyes...the dental assistant smiling with her mouth but not with her eyes...these should have tipped me off.

It wasn't until the Woman-Child with her thick-mascara, stick-straight eyelashes and zombie eyes came in that I started to get an inkling I had entered surreality. She stood always just outside of my vision and asked peppy questions, "Would you like cherry or bubble gum flavor?" When she passed in front of me, her dead eyes belied her animated voice and congenial smile. And when she blinked, her thick eyelashes swept down to her cheeks then popped back up.

The oral surgeon, forced to interact with me, swabbed the outside of my gums to prepare for the Novocaine shot. I should have said something when he didn't swab the inside of my gums but I didn't and therefore jumped out of the chair when he injected the needle into my unprepared gum.

"You are doing so well." Stick-Straight Eyelashes blinked. "Have you considered implants?"

Huh?

"I only want you to have all your options available to you." She blinked. Her mouth smiled, her eyes didn't. "You should have an implant."

My skin crawled. "My insurance won't cover it."

The oral surgeon returned. I panicked when he touched my mouth. I jerked back and turned my head. I didn't trust him. But I had to continue.

"Breathe," I told myself. "Remember to breathe. Keep breathing." The panic welled up.

Stick-Straight Eyelashes blinked and asked, "Have you not had a tooth pulled before?"

"Not since my last baby tooth," I cried.

"You're doing so well." She blinked. I imagined her nodding knowingly (as knowingly as a zombie can) to the oral surgeon.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax.

The oral surgeon dug in. I wanted to cry. My body was screaming at me, "What are you doing to me? Stop this!" All I could do was watch and console myself. The digging. The prying. The pulling. The tearing of nerves. The extraction of roots. Stick-Straight Eyelashes watched with her dead eyes and bright smile. Then the tooth was torn out and the surgeon sewed up the hole and I held back tears.

Stick-Straight Eyelashes jammed gauze in my mouth, "You did so well!" She blinked, then escorted me to a room where she put in a video for me to watch about after-surgery care (copyright 1989). I didn't watch the video. I trembled, cried, and went into shock.

The oral surgeon disappeared with my tooth. No one said anything to me about it. It's as if my tooth didn't exist. So I asked, "Where's my tooth?"

She blinked. "It had very long roots."

Stick-Straight Eyelashes gave me my after-surgery care package with prescriptions. I wanted to escape. She looked straight at me and spoke with a bright smile but there was NO ONE INSIDE. Who stole her? Did the oral surgeon extract one of her teeth?

The more I think about it, the more I am convinced I had entered a perverted Tim Burton movie with overtones of Lemony Snicket and shades of Edward Gorey.

Cobalt Blue

I have discovered, much to my educational detriment, that not having a car has limited me in getting photographs. I have been at the mercy of the bus system. So this past weekend I broke down and bought a car.

She's beautiful! On Wednesday when I decided I had to buy a car I put the Universe to the test. I told the Universe that I wanted a blue car (in my head it was cobalt blue) that got 28-32 mpg freeway driving for under $10K. And it had to be fairly new so that I wouldn't worry about repairs up front. Then I envisioned the dealership and on Saturday I went there. Right on the corner of the lot was this beautiful cobalt blue 2006 Suzuki Aerio with only 21K miles on it and after numerous phone calls to my mechanic and a lot of dickering at the dealership, I drove it off the lot. All my criteria were met!

I have since checked it out online and am satisfied that I made a decent deal.

Now to get the Internet set up! (Taking place on Thursday. Yay!)

Valentine's Day

I was demonstrating typing on Path's to my lab when I realized the juxtapositioning of text and image seemed autobiographical. I love Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken." So I used that as my text. When I demonstrated typing within a shape, I used the heart shape from the custom menu. One of the sentiments from Facebook's Super Poke emerged so I included that. Once I realized how my subconscious played a trick on me, I went with it and played around with the background, et voila!

Although the majority of this art piece is created in Photoshop, I did include one of my photos. I used a photo of a rusted door and lock, desaturated it, created a high b/w contrast, then used it as the grunge effect. Still very fitting and meaning-Full for me.

What I Photograph

Here is what I like to photograph:

Anything in decay
Old, rusted metal
Chains
Mechanical apparati (is that the plural?)
Textures
Reflections
Fragments (shards?) of anything
Close ups (almost to abstraction but not quite)
Close ups (as abstracts)
Incongruities

Symmetry by Dezra Despain

I like character and mystery. I like stories. I relish metaphors and symbolisms.

I don't photograph just to get a pretty picture. It has to have meaning.

Meaning.

All I do that has value to me is meaning-Full.

That's when photography comes alive for me.

Search for Essence

I went to my photography club yesterday. It seemed so trite after reading Sontag and Barthes. The club is a good group of people but I couldn't get past the technical treatment, the "this is how you compose a shot" theme that made no sense to me because photography's soul was taking up my mind.
Soul.
Essence.
What is the essence of photography? What is my relationship to it? How do I approach it? What is my photographic voice? What is it about photography that grips me, that pulls me in? It's not "this is how you compose a shot" and yet, that's how I've been taking photos. How do I become photography?

I'm getting a bit weary with how I approach photography. It is all about the composition, about seeing the forms and lines and repetition of shapes and colors. It is about seeing what is not seen and exposing it. And yet, I haven't liked what I've done lately. It's trivial. It's boring. It's predictable.

I think about Seeing Sideways as an antidote but am not captured by the thought because Seeing Sideways ends up about Seeing Sideways. Seeing Sideways becomes the goal. The outcome only points back to Seeing Sideways, not to the essence of the outcome. It therefore is no longer about photography. What I must do is discover the Me within Photography.

I don't know if any of this is relevant for my final project. But it is my reflections at the moment.

On Photography

I've been reading essays on photography; "On Photography" by Susan Sontag and "Camera Lucida" by Roland Barthes. Rich suggested I immerse myself in reflections on photography so that I could read how others view it and in turn uncover my own perspective. The reflections have been interesting; Sontag is depressing, reflecting on the raw, the absurd, and the hollowness of photography--at least, that's my take on her writing thus far. Barthes uses Sartre's "L'Imaginaire" to inform and direct his narrative. Up until now, I hadn't thought of photography from an intellectual or philosophical perspective so reading these two books has made me conscious of what my personal take on photography may be. I see this as an opportunity "to exhaust a philosophy...to reflect within its perspectives, and create my own private ideas at its expense..." (John-Paul Sartre)

Even though I haven't consciously thought about why I photograph what I do, I do have a perspective that I want to explore. My fascination lies in what I call "snippets" or parts of the whole. I have always been fascinated by isolation of parts, by gathering bits and pieces, whether it's in what I write or what I photograph. I'm constantly gathering "snippets."

A photograph cannot capture the whole. Perhaps that's why I like it so much. I look for the story within the story, and, even within the story; folding in on itself like a Mandlebrot fractal, looking for an essence...The Essence.

As I think about this, though, that isn't possible in photography. The closer in you get, the more the view becomes abstract and unidentifiable. I wonder, though, if it's the search that fascinates me...always searching. The journey.

How this will fit in with my project, I don't know. I'm not sure where the project is going yet.

I'm in the image gathering stage using Camera Raw. It has been difficult because I don't have a lot of time to devote to the photography now that I'm working full time and teaching part time. So I'm trying to listen to myself and work with myself and with what I have available to me so that I am satisfied and content with my subject.

I feel guilty taking photos. I should be doing something I don't like instead. But because I love taking photos, the pleasure I feel is full of guilt so I haven't taken many photos. But I plan on it this weekend.

My Final Semester Begins!

How is it that the final semester of my master's program is here? When did that happen? OMG! I feel like I've lived through lifetimes and yet have just barely started. Time has stretched and shrunk and folded in upon itself all in a matter of two years. Two years. I've slipped around and through the program. It has been wild.

Now I'm starting my final project and I want to blog about it. I want to link my thoughts about my project to the medium itself and see where it goes. I don't know what to expect with my project. I'm taking Kierkegaard's philosophical leap of faith, leaving rationality behind and stepping into the Unknown, that part of me that I know exists but that I've ignored because it scares me so.

Fall 2006, I took N503 Digital Media Application Design Processes with Richard Edwards as the professor. I did not want to take that class because traditionally it had been taught using Flash as the application and it was the traditional that I wanted to learn, but Rich decided to take it in a different direction. The direction he took it appeared to be totally useless for me.

Ultimately, N503 ended up being the one class that I value the very most from all my studies. I figured anyone who can bring Niestzche into a New Media classroom and discuss philosophy and how it relates to New Media is someone worth taking a class from. On top of that, Rich played to everyone's strengths, encouraging the class members to create a project that had value to them.

I was able to push my knowledge of Photoshop, my personal application of choice. My final project was thrilling for me...so much so that the still image of it is currently the header of this blog (the project itself was a .mov shown on the Wall...a huge screen on the UITS side of the building). I also printed it so that it fit within the framework of a door and it has hung in a gallery. Wow!

(I wish that Google Video didn't chunk my video. It runs much more smoothly than this.)

Last semester was my Semester-From-Hell (SFH). So much happened to me during that semester that I had to make choices about what I could do and think about and what I had to set aside. I set aside thoughts of my final project.

Once the SFH was over, I turned my thoughts to my final project. I had wanted to do something with art and technology but I knew it was too late to really start on something as extensive as that so I settled on a not-for-profit branding project. It was "safe." It was something I could do and it fell within the parameters of the program's expectations. But I felt I had done myself a disservice by settling for something easy. I just didn't know what else to do. Then I had to find a mentor.

My first choice was Rich, though I had two other instructors as possibilities just in case Rich was booked for the semester. I was thrilled when Rich agreed to work with me. The way I saw it was even if branding wasn't Rich's forte (one of the other instructors I had emailed is excellent at branding), he is a conceptualizer. I knew that he would get me to think differently about what I was doing. He would expand my perspective and pop me out of whatever narrow box I was rummaging around in.

When I sat in his office at our first meeting, he looked at me and said, "I don't get it, Dezra. I don't see this as something you would be doing. This isn't YOU."

I tried to explain that I had no time to think about my project during the SFH and this was all I could come up with. But Rich wouldn't hear me...THANK GOODNESS! He said, "You should be doing something with art, perhaps with your camera and photography."

I just didn't know what!

But his parting words were, "Dezra, if you decide you want to design a matchbox cover, I can turn that into a project for you. I want you to think about what you're doing and get back with me."

So I am now leaping into the unknown, working with Camera Raw because that is what is grabbing me, not knowing where I'm going with it but trusting the process...because I trust Rich. I trust that he will be able to direct me and I trust that I will be able to seize the opportunities. And I trust my gut. I don't know where it's taking me, but I'm in for a ride. And I'm thrilled.

Public Exposure

Believe it or not, I am totally taken in by Facebook. It is delightful! It is definitely a different world, one I'm not used to being in because I come out of a past that didn't include advertising yourself for everyone to see.

I am fascinated by the concept that the kids today won't know what it's like to live a local life. Today's kids are taking for granted how public they are. With websites like MySpace and Facebook giving them places to publicly expose themselves, they will never truly have privacy.

But they won't care because it's just the way life is for them. It is the air they breathe...they aren't aware there is any other way to be.

Fascinating.

Yay! I Got It To Work!

I finally figured it out. The workaround was a pain, but I did it. I got my SWF file converted to a MOV then uploaded it to YouTube. I can't believe I posted on YouTube. What is the world coming to????



Here's what I had to do. Flash 8 wouldn't preserve the transitions so I had to revert to Flash 5. Flash 5 didn't want to maintain the audio so once I exported it as an MOV, I opened it in QuickTime then saved it as a DV. I imported the DV into iMovies where I added the audio back in, having to re-edit it. Then I saved it again as an MOV.

In the process, it kept getting compressed. I'm not pleased with the quality, but what can I say? The SWF looks clean and sharp and for what I will eventually be using this for, I won't have to compress it. Thank God!

My first Flash project, done.

Public Vulnerability

Photo of Dezra taken at MacNiven's. How I want the public to see me--reflected through three sets of glass and reversed in a mirror. Safe.

I sent this post to a friend:

Aaaaaack! I just joined Facebook. I hate it! I hate it! I feel exposed and vulnerable.

So why did I join? Damn it! I'm a New Media grad student. I should understand these kinds of things. I should be up on this type of stuff.

Ick.

I just want to go wrap myself up in a blanket and hide in a closet.

But I figure if Beth H. can do it, then I can. She said that she thought she should be connected to the students using current technology, so that's why she joined. She has approached it professionally, which is the only way I'll approach it.

But I hate being "out there" where I'm on display to people I don't know. Gaaack! God, I can't believe what I've done to myself. I have a blog...that I don't advertise, but I keep it current. I have a photo account on Flickr, that I don't advertise but I keep it current. (And I was pinged on that one within minutes of uploading a specific photo...someone wanted to add it to his Flickr account...and I said YES...ugh, can you believe this???? After that guy pinged me, I had to go for a walk...I hated how I felt...exposed and vulnerable.) And now I'm on Facebook. I feel like I've set myself up to be invaded.

I hate it.

And I will probably join Second Life, which I abhor on so many levels.

But I can't get past the fact that this is our life and culture currently and if I'm to be part of it, I need to understand it. And if I'm in New Media, I should understand the new media social life. I have lived so long on past traditions, never being the one to embrace what is current. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be forward-thinking and -living. Sigh.

So I've put myself out there in cyberspace where anyone and everyone can see me. I just need to make sure that what they see doesn't truly invade my privacy.

-d

Flash Movie

I have been playing around with Flash 8. Check out what I did. It's a link on the sidebar under "Check This Out." It's called, "My First Flash Attempt." (Forget it, it didn't work. I can't ever keep a link to my Yahoo group and that's where it's living. Yahoo is one of the only places I can find that supports SWF files, but the link keeps breaking.)

I'm trying to create a template in Flash where all I have to do is switch out the photos. In November I will be photographing an event. I have been asked to create some kind of slide show presentation that they can run daily with photos taken from the previous day. I considered creating a Power Point presentation, but I was asked to do it in Flash, if at all possible.

I don't know Flash, so I've been reading everything I can about it then playing around. The Flash file I created looks wonderful on the outside, but the file itself is a mess! I have so many different symbols in the library that I have no idea what they do and everything is so scattered, it's pathetic. There's no way I could swap out the photos in any timely fashion. I have Movie Clips and Graphics and when I scrub, some things "work" and others don't.

I have since figured out a lot of the screw ups and I think I can do what I want to do for November, which is to make a template. The movie I tried to post here took me three days to make. Today I made one in a third of the time and its library is filed nicely with all the dewey-decimals filed and in place. :)

I've joined the ranks of YouTube users hoping that I can upload the SWF file there. Ugh! I hate that. I am extremely private to the public but very open in private. I do not like having stuff just sitting out there for others to see and I'm not aware of it. I feel vulnerable.

...later...

Ok, the video I thought I'd be able to upload to YouTube and link here didn't work because it's an SWF and YouTube doesn't support SWFs. I have tried exporting the SWF as an MOV but I used a lot of transitions that my QuickTime player doesn't support so it looks crappy.

Just enjoy the flowers. The Flash presentation was all about flowers.

Grrrrrr.

Guess Who?

Elizabeth played Guess Who with the class. She took photos of everyone and enlarged them. As the class held their photos (or if they weren't there when the pictures were taken, they were given a pseudoface to hold up), it was hilarious to see a room full of three-dimensional bodies but two-dimensional heads! I just wish I had a wide-angle lens to capture the whole of the class!
This is the closest I got to a wide-angle shot of the class. I truly do wish I'd had a wide-angle lens.


I've been trying to think of witty captions...but I'm very tired this morning and my wit is gone. Tom Raymer! Help! I need your laconic humor! Or your singing pants. Either one will do.

Tears Revisited

A while ago I had an instructor tell me, "You must live a rigid life." I was dumbfounded. I said, "I don't, really." He said, "Judging by your work, your life is very rigid." I stuttered a bit and he interrupted, "No, I can tell." I immediately stopped because I knew that I wouldn't convince him otherwise so there was no point in arguing with him. I knew better. If he wanted to believe my life is rigid, no amount of arguing on my part would convince him. He was rigid in his view of me.

I was in a discussion with another couple of friends who lament the fact that we, as a culture/society, don't let our feelings show. We have been taught to hide our feelings. I agree. I have spent the last decade learning to express my feelings and going through a series of understandings regarding them. I am not afraid of my feelings. I acknowledge them and have even gone through the phase of always showing what I felt. I have since realized that honoring your feelings doesn't mean having to show them...it just means recognizing that you are having feelings and not suppressing them. So I don't always show my feelings, but that doesn't mean I don't know I'm having them.

Then I told these friends the story of when I was a year old. (If you haven't read my blog entry title "Tears" do so...it will explain what this entry is all about.) I asked them, "Do you know why I went crying to my room?"

They jumped all over the whole feeling thing..."you weren't allowed to express your tears when you were little."

I said, "No."

"Oh, but you didn't cry. You suppressed it."

"Well, yes, but that's not why I went to my room and cried."

"Society won't let us express ourselves and what we truly feel."

And as they continued on, I realized that no matter what I said, they wouldn't understand why I cried. I made mention of it but it eluded them and they directed the conversation back to feelings.

People can only hear what is inside them. For my instructor, he was extremely rigid in how he judged others...coming to conclusions about them then sticking with those conclusions no matter how wrong they are. So he judged me as being rigid...because that's what he was. For my friends, they were all about feelings and not being able to express them so they viewed me as suppressing my feelings when that wasn't what it was for me at all.

When I say "There is no out there, out there" this is what I'm referring to. We can only see outside of us what's inside of us. I learn the very most about myself when I am at odds with someone else.

Back to my story. Here is why I cried.

I saw a little girl who, by the age of 12 months, couldn't ask for help. I saw a little girl who, by the age of 12 months, didn't have a mother she could turn to for help. And no where in that story did my mother ever say she comforted me. I don't know how to ask for help. I believe I have to do it all by myself. That I am alone. And that makes me sad...knowing it was in place by the time I was a year old.

My mother was invisible and I have been battling invisibility all my life.

Downtown Revelation

I figured it out. I asked if Tourist Dezra would take that photo of the monument reflected in the windows of Chase bank and the answer is "yes" if she had seen it! I doubt she would have seen it because she would have been so overcome by the monument itself she would have been finding interesting angles looking at the monument. But Indianapolis Dezra has photographed that monument so many times that she turned away from it, bored, and was then able to look differently. The photo on the left is the only photo I took directly of the monument. I was uninspired and wanted something different so I turned away and started looking around at other things. That's when I discovered the monument in the window. And from then on I stopped seeing through Tourist Dezra's eyes and started looking at everything through Indianapolis Dezra's eyes.

I need to go through downtown Indianapolis with a real newcomer to the area...one not already so familiar with the architecture and buildings that they can no longer see Indianapolis through fresh eyes.

My next assignment, when I can get to it, is to go on a scavenger hunt. I will go downtown and as Tourist Dezra I will ask people what there is in Indianapolis that is photo-worthy. Then I will go to that place, take some photos, and ask someone already there where my next place should be. I will keep doing that just to see what Indy thinks is photo-worthy.

Tourist Experiment

I performed an experiment today. I went downtown pretending to be a tourist. I wanted to see downtown Indianapolis through the eyes of a tourist...but not just any tourist. I had to be myself. Talk about fighting off schizophrenia! :) So I was Dezra visiting a place I've lived in for over 20 years. Man. What a trip. What would I photograph? And more importantly, how? Would I photograph like a tourist and catch all the required photos? I had to battle that one.

When I hit Monument Circle, I discovered the Monument in the reflections of the windows of Chase Bank, so I took a number of photos there. But is that what Tourist Dezra--who had never been to Indy before--would do? Or would Tourist Dezra take a full-length shot of the Monument? I was in a quandary. I loved the reflection, but would I take that photo as a tourist?

As I wandered about, I saw all these newspaper stands...the colors were very bright. Not knowing if other major cities display their papers like Indy does, I figured I'd take a photo anyway--just in case this is an Indy phenomenon. I loved the colors and how they lined up in their plastic cases. And they seemed to be all over downtown.

As Indianapolis Dezra, I have been all over the War Corridor (or whatever they call it) so I wasn't sure exactly what Tourist Dezra would photograph. As I walked into the park area, I noticed a heavy, rusted chain shackling the park bench to the area. Dezra in all lives can't resist rusted chains (you should see my "rusted chain" folder on my desk top) so instead of photographing war, I photographed the chains as a metaphor for war...and how better to push the metaphor than to include my *shudder* 'war-torn' foot...bound by the chain.

Then I started thinking. Hey! I was in Boston not too long ago. What did I photograph there? I remembered that I kept photographing architecture and stairwells and textures. And what I loved most about Boston was the history and all the old buildings.
So I figured I might as well photograph some of Indy's wonderful architecture. That's when I discovered that Indy is schizophrenic! And I love it! Indy has old, historic buildings juxtaposed next to highly-reflective modern architecture. It feeds my reflection fetish and my old architecture fetish. (See the above photo of Monument Circle as an example...the old reflected in the new.) So I took some photos of the older buildings...the Scottish Rite Cathedral being one of my favorites.

One thing I know I love are the sculptures and artwork that major cities display. So as I passed by Fifth/Third Bank on my way back to my car, I stopped for a final photo shoot. I took many angles of this particular sculpture, but I loved how the flag draped in the background and how the sculpture reflected in the windows.

From my perspective, I didn't pass the experiment. I wasn't a good tourist. I passed on a lot of things that I would have taken photos of had I been Indianapolis Dezra and in doing so, I passed on photos that Tourist Dezra would have taken. I wasn't discovering Indy for the first time, but hitting places where I knew I might get good photos. Then I ignored the typical photos ops because I was afraid I was there only because Indianapolis Dezra went there. It was a really weird experience.

I need to go with someone who can help me see Indy objectively.

Downtown Indianapolis

I have been culling my photos of downtown Indianapolis. After viewing the photographic links Beth suggested regarding the New Media Consortium, I was fascinated by what people outside of Indianapolis view as photo worthy; the Slippery Noodle shingle, Dunaways, chalk marks, some sculptures, IT Room 152, the hamster tunnels. It really was intriguing.

So I decided I would go through my photos of downtown Indianapolis and see how I view Indianapolis. I went through past photos and culled about 30 of them and uploaded them to Flickr. (I have since added to that...but these photos are recent and were shot "from the hip." I didn't know what I had until I got home.) I added the link under Blog Art there on the sidebar. Check them out. Interestingly enough, I am not able to be objective!!!! I can't see how I see Indianapolis! I am so ingrained in Indianapolis that I can't step outside of myself to understand what I've photographed. Or maybe I'm so ingrained in myself that I can't step outside of myself to see my photographs objectively.

Also, I ask myself why I chose those photos from the hundreds that I have of Indianapolis? And I don't have an answer. I'm too close. I am frustrated that I'm so close to myself and the situation that I can't see it. I can't see objectively! It's like the photos and I are one and there's no stepping outside to see anything other than me. Aaaarrrgggghhh!

The second part to this post scares me. I uploaded those photos this morning. The only tag I put on them was "downtown/Indianapolis." Within minutes one of my photos had been tagged as a favorite and the originator asked permission to post it on a special site he has. (The photo of the black man.) I went to the site and it's a fabulous site but what scares me is that HE FOUND ME WITHIN MINUTES. I feel vulnerable! How did he find me? How did this photo get tagged minutes upon being posted? I am NOT advertising my site and yet...

Vulnerable. I hate feeling vulnerable.

Tears

A couple of months ago I asked my mother if she remembered what I was like as a baby. She told me a story of a time when I was just learning to walk...I was about 12 months old. We were at a friend's house and I wanted to climb up on an ottoman. So I did. But I was unbalanced and took a tumble to the floor.

"You whimpered," my mother said, "but you didn't cry. You were so cute and so small and that ottoman was so large for you!"

She said she watched me get up with tears forming in my eyes and climb back up on the ottoman.

After I got off the phone with my mother, I went into my bedroom and bawled!

My question for you is, why?

Why would that story make someone cry decades later?

I won't answer. I want you to ponder it. In a few days I'll explain why I cried.

Second Life = Plato's Cave

I sent this as an e-mail to a friend:

Second Life = Plato's Cave

The Indianapolis Star had a front page write up on Second Life. Linda showed it to me. I didn't read it...didn't have to. Linda was so dumbfounded by the whole concept she told me about it. She has never heard of Second Life. Apparently there's a gal in Indianapolis that makes virtual clothes and sells them in Second Life. Last year she made $150K. It's almost tempting to go into the program and see what I can sell, except the whole thought of creating clothes in Photoshop and selling pixels to other pixels or vectors seems ludicrous to me. And buying "real estate" that exists in some kind of ether world makes no sense to me.

You may hate Second Life because it's clunky and inefficient. I hate it on principle. I see how we are creating a place where we can go and fall asleep. It is soooooooooooooo anti-buddhist. The point of this life, according to my beliefs, is to wake up. But virtuality is a sleeping pill.

Why do we (we=the masses) hate the material world? Why do we hate our bodies? Why do we hate bumping up against anything that is fully material? This has always been the case. When Christianity began, the hermits left the world to try to live with spirit...to be "one" with God. Even buddhists will take themselves out of the world to try to get that "oneness." Christians mortified the body, trying to subject it to Spirit and we see residuals of that today. "We" truly hate the material world and it saddens me.

You are familiar with Plato's Cave, right? That's what computer gaming and Second Life and all this virtual stuff reminds me of. I see backs turned away from the world and watching shadows on the monitor.

So, on principle and according to my beliefs, I cannot and will not enter a "second life" whether it be the online community of that name or any other kind of virtual addiction.

My concern for myself is that I have entered the virtual community. You are reading it. I e-mail. I use Photoshop. I sit in front of monitors most of the day.

My concern is to not become addicted...addicted to the opium of virtuality.

What If...

I have been thinking about the What If question and decided to approach it slightly differently. I want to explore the question of major key points or turning points in my life...and what if they didn't happen?

So here goes:

1. What if my mother had backbone?
2. What if I hadn't been raised a Mormon?
3. What if I didn't believe in the Mormon concept of God?
4. (and a corollary) What if I still believed in God?
5. What if my intelligence and talents had been nurtured?
6. What if Rachel had never said, "You call that a swing? That's stiff as a board!"
7. What if I had won my freshman class secretary election?
8. What if my cousin, Patricia, had never shown me where middle C was on the piano?
9. What if my grandmother hadn't compared my slow physical development with my curvaceous cousin?
10. What if I didn't have a prominent birthmark on my face?
11. What if I had never met Laura?
12. What if my dad had made $500 a year less, which would have put us in the poor category?
13. What if my dad had made enough money to let us have extra-curricular lessons?
14. What if I didn't play the piano for my friend at Church?
15. What if I had been given the role of Mona Lisa in high school?
16. What if I had won the Key Club elections?
17. What if I hadn't won the speech contest?
18. What if I didn't hear a voice telling me to "Go on a mission?"
19. What if god didn't abandon me while on my mission?
20. What if I abandoned god right after he abandoned me instead of waiting 20 years?
21. What if my self-worth was not caught up in god's love for me?
22. What if I never married Terry?
23. What if I never had children?
24. What if my daughter never died?
25. What if I never moved to Indianapolis?
26. What if I had never met Deidre?
27. What if I had not read the book that gave me the Aha! that there is no god...at least not the way it is taught in Western religion (please, no religion comments...this is my perspective--I realize this and not everyone agrees and I accept that...the point of this blog entry is to explore my turning points and this is the most significant turning point for me.)
28. What if I chose not to go down the rabbit hole?
29. What if Deidre were still my friend?
30. What if I hadn't met Ken Wilbur, Joseph Campbell, Carolyn Myss, or Jean Houston?
31. What if I didn't get my undergraduate degree in General Studies with a strong humanities emphasis?
32. What if I didn't reside in the Underworld?
33. What if I didn't discover art?
34. or more precisely, what if art didn't discover me?
35. What if I didn't act on the whim to take N180 with Beth as the instructor?
36. What if I never met Alan?
37. What if Beth hadn't broken her finger?
38. What if I had never met Mark?
39. What if I hadn't had a gallbladder attack on Christmas Eve?
40. What if I chose to remain in the Underworld with my demons?
41. What if I chose not to honor my next Aha! and enroll in the master's program of Media Arts and Science? (I almost didn't)
42. What if I had never met Mitch?
43. What if I didn't spill red wine on white upholstery?
44. What if I didn't try to work things out first when presented with a difficult situation?
45. What if I actually earned an A- instead of the grade I was given?

And I will end it here because I'm as up-to-date as I can be. Believe it or not, that last question has totally redefined me to myself and is the most recent major life changing event and one that I will always honor. Most of what I have written has meaning mostly to me and I apologize for that because I know it makes for boring reading. But some of my questions are so personal and the story behind them is too involved.